


Blurry

by poisontaster



Series: Every Broken Thing [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Incest, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-08
Updated: 2006-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>We lost so much…can’t we just…have this?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mona1347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mona1347/gifts).
  * Translation into Polski available: [Przez mgłę](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664381) by [Loreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loreen/pseuds/Loreen)



> _Everything's so blurry and everyone's so fake_  
>  _And everybody's empty and everything is so messed up_  
>  _Preoccupied without you, I cannot live at all_  
>  _My whole world surrounds you, I stumble then I crawl_  
>  _You could be my someone, you could be my scene_  
>  _You know that I'll protect you from all of the obscene_  
>  _I wonder what you're doing, imagine where you are_  
>  _There's oceans in between us, but that's not very far_  
>  \--“Blurry” by Puddles of Mudd

Dean would never have fucked Sam-- _never_ \--if Sam hadn’t come to him first. If Sam hadn’t asked—no, begged—first. Because although Dean’s quite aware his feelings for Sam go way past ‘kid brother’ and on into the realms of ‘special hell’, there are some lines a big brother doesn’t cross. Not ever.

But if said kid brothers cross them _for_ you…

Well. That’s different isn’t it?

Sam’s almost sobbing as Dean fucks his fingers deeper, harder into him. He’s still tight, taut, arching into each thrust, head down. “Please, Dean… _Please_ …”

“Shh.” Dean feathers his free hand over the bony spur of Sam’s flank, across the knobbled field of ribs, along the knife-edge of scapula and into the soft sweaty mop of his hair. Sam butts into the touch, catlike, eyes closed, gasping. “I know what you need, Sammy. I’ll take care of you.”

Sam _writhes_ , trying to shove back onto Dean’s hand, but Dean flexes with him, denying him relief. “Dean… _Dean_ …please. I can’t… _ah!_ …I can’t… You…”

“You can,” Dean says, gentle, as he strokes, deep and firm. Sam gasps and his back arches, throwing all the muscles into hard-edged prominence. Dean didn’t think it was possible to get harder—he’s teetering on the ragged edge himself—but he does, a dizzy pleasure-pressure that makes him rest his forehead against the warm sweaty skin of Sam’s neck and murmur, “Come on, baby.”

Sam shakes his head, trembling.

Dean swirls his tongue wetly up the back of Sam’s neck and over the sensitive curve of ear. Sam’s shaking gets worse and his hips falter in their desperate thrusts. The noise that tears out of him makes Dean grope for his own dick, squeezing tight to stave himself off for a few minutes longer. “Come on, Sammy; it’s okay. Let go.” He keeps stroking into the smooth heat of Sam, brushing lightly but firmly over the prostate, trying to force the issue.

“No.” Sam’s whole body bucks helplessly to the rhythm Dean’s set, but he won’t give in, sweating, cursing, vibrating. “ _No._ Want… _fuck!_ …want you. Inside me.”

“Sam—“

“No!” Sam tightens hard around Dean’s fingers, tugging a groan from his older brother. “Please. In me.”

“Sammy…” Softer this time, belying almost brutal push of his fingers.

“Please.” Hardly a sound at all.

He should be stronger; Dean knows it. But he isn’t. He can’t ever really deny Sammy anything, let alone this.

Sammy’s groan, and the silken clutch of muscle is almost enough to undo Dean as he slides slow and sure into Sam. He puts his forehead between Sam’s shoulder blades, twines his fingers over and through Sam’s and pants, fighting for equilibrium, fighting not to spill inside Sam right then and there. Sam whimpers and twitches his hips and Dean hisses, “Wait. Wait…”

Sam whimpers again. “I’m so close, Dean; I’m so _close_ …please… Now. _Now._ Nownownownow…” He flexes and moves, fucking himself on Dean, stubborn and willful even in this and Dean lets him, eyes closed and biting his lips until it bleeds in hot salty drops down Sam’s vertebra.

“Dean… _Dean…_ ” Sam’s voice rises as he gets closer.

“Shhh.” Dean slides back and fits his hands around Sam’s hips. (It shouldn’t feel like they belong there, but they do.) He takes the rhythm back as Sam loses it, hard grinds that rub his cock all along Sam’s insides. Sam dissolves into incoherent gasping, moaning cries, both hands fisted in the sheets.

Dean could come from those noises alone; when Sam is this wild, this unrestrained, when he lets go; but he can’t tell if it’s the sound or the feel of him as he comes, pulsing, jerking, sucking Dean deeper until he can’t hang on any more and he’s spilling, spurting, falling _hard_ , everything whiting out until there’s only _Sam, Sam, Sam_.

Sam’s arms give out. Dean’s got just enough strength and presence of mind to drag them sideways so they lie spooned and tangled. Sam makes a soft, stifled noise and shivers as Dean eases free, but otherwise, he lies boneless, malleable. Dean swipes his fingers across Sam’s belly, collecting his seed and bringing it to his mouth. It’s his one indulgence in oceans of recrimination and regret, the taste of Sam.

He looks down and sees Sam’s eyes are open and he’s watching Dean lick his fingers. “I love it when you do that,” he murmurs sleepily.

Dean feels his mouth quirk, but he doesn’t say anything, untangling himself from his brother and climbing off the bed gingerly. His legs feel rubbery and hot. “I’m going to shower,” he offers finally, careful not to look at Sam all sprawled naked and fucked out.

He’s closing the bathroom door when Sam’s voice carries to him. “Dean.”

Dean pauses, and finally raises his head. Sam’s looking over his shoulder, his eyes serious. “I wanted this. I…want it. I want you. I always did. It’s just…before Jess I was just some kid to you.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, Sammy; my kid _brother_.”

Sam flinches a little. “Okay, _yeah_ …but… Can’t we ever be more than that? We lost so much…can’t we just…have this?”

Dean closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the door’s edge. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.”

“Dean—“

“Ask me tomorrow,” he says again, his voice cracking. “For the love of God, Sam… _please_.”

Sam nods curtly. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Breathing hard, Dean closes the door and goes to wash the smell and taste of his brother away, however temporarily.


End file.
